Madame Glumeau, who had turned toward the chestnut tree, called to Madame Boutillon:
"Mon Dieu, madame! what on earth are you doing there? What an idea to climb up into that tree!"
"I did it to have a good view of the play, madame; all the seats below were taken, and I love to have a good place."
"For heaven's sake, come down, Madame Boutillon! I will give you my chair, and find another. Come, you can't stay up in the air."
"Why not, pray? I don't see that I am in anybody's way; and as I am perfectly comfortable, I propose to stay here."
"She is an extraordinary creature!" said Madame Glumeau, turning to the people near her. "She always wants to do differently from others!"
"If that lady desires to put herself in evidence," said Madame de Grangeville, "it seems to me that she couldn't have a better place."
The mistress of the house left her seat for a moment, and approached the group of which Monsieur Boutillon was one; she made her way to the old gentleman's side and said to him:
"Monsieur Boutillon, do look at your wife, sitting on the branch of a tree! I am afraid some accident will happen to her. Tell her to get down. I have begged her to but she won't listen to me."
"What! what! Is that my wife up there?" replied the husband, looking into the air. "Oh! that doesn't surprise me; she has always been fond of climbing trees; she's a regular squirrel, is Zéphirine! She is strong, and yet she is very light. One day, at a village fête, she insisted upon climbing a greased pole. She put on trousers, and she would have reached the prize, if they hadn't torn, so that she had to come down! We had a good laugh over it!"
"But Monsieur Boutillon, if madame should fall,--it isn't probable that she has put on trousers to come here to dance."
"No matter! never fear, I'll answer for everything."
"If the husband answers for everything, madame," observed Jéricourt with a mocking expression, "it seems to me that you have no right to worry!"
"Let's go and stand by the chestnut tree, Jéricourt," said little Saint-Arthur, leading his literary friend away.
"Ah! my dear Alfred, you are a sad rake! you want to see the foliage upside down!--Well, I will let you take me where you will."
As she returned to her seat, Madame Glumeau saw her son rush into the woods with an air of dismay, crying: